


SKF Deleted Scenes Fic

by AussieDollVA



Series: Accidental Angst-mobile [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Deleted Scenes, More characters to be added, Other, Universe Building, Whump, as per chapter development, companion fic, no beta we die like men, plothole bandaid fic, sick keith, sick!keith, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-06-29 12:09:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19829932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AussieDollVA/pseuds/AussieDollVA
Summary: Companion fic to Sick Keith Fic (SKF) --> can find it in the series.Shows the deleted scenes I felt didn’t work with the story’s pacing, or was otherwise at a loss on how to tackle while actually writing but it’d be awkward to insert them now.Read if you wanna see some serious fluff.Or don’t.It’s, like, totally up to you.





	1. Chapter 1 - Flowers Make Great Cheesepuffs - Deleted Ending

**Author's Note:**

> I do suggest reading Sick Keith Fic (SKF) in tandem or at least before reading this, as it'll have heaps of spoilers for that fic and I'm pretty sure it's gonna get weird later on as it directly references SKF (or, at least, I _plan_ to. We all know how I am with plans).
> 
> Feel free to join my discord if you wanna chill. Might be putting previews there. 
> 
> https://discord.gg/awxVjkh
> 
> Hope you enjoy! ♥

“Leader. The mission is a success. The samples have been collected. Setting route for Marmora headquarters, now.” Li’vor spoke, trying to ignore the instinctive chills that assaulted his spine.

Druids were not known to be easy kills.

Ichor sat cool against his armor where it was splattered from the initial attack. Uncanny screeches echoed within the inner canal of his pointed ears, resounding as the fear took its course. 

“Good.” Kolivan’s voice was level through the speakers. “I trust there were no complications?”

It seemed that Kolivan had learnt the art of sarcasm. Li’vor supposed that was what happened when one was in close proximity with humans.

“The base was destroyed,” Li’vor confirmed, expecting the minute narrowing his leader’s eyes that sharpened into an exasperated glare. 

“Keith?” Kolivan looked both patient and irritated, despite the only tell being a hardness in tone that was not there a moment ago.

“Keith.” The agent nodded, answering the unspoken question. “His efforts are also what mitigated our loss of field agents, today.” He did not know why he felt the urge to defend the small Blade. Perhaps it was the strange jitters he felt just under his hide – _humans call it an adrenaline rush_ , Keith had said – or the high of a successful mission. 

Or fear.

Li’vor was still very much shaken at the raw instinct their youngest Blade seemed to possess, having seen with his own four eyes how Keith had cut it down without resistance, as if he’d known it would be there waiting for him. 

He tried not to think about the Galra kits who were found to have such potential.

Li’vor’s hand had still been upon the bay door hatch when the vile creature materialised, mere quarzos from his side. He’d sworn both of his hearts had paused, mind rushing to keep up with the ambush. He knew the other Blades were in equal positions of shock; humbled at the thought of one so young sensing danger without the aid of his comrades’ heightened senses.

Li’vor wondered if all humans were like that.

Perhaps it was best to focus.

“What are our numbers?” Kolivan asked, seemingly having put his disapproval aside in favour of more pressing matters.

“No loss, sir.” Li’vor was glad to report, if a little wary.

Not many were known to come back from a mission with Keith.

Kolivan seemed to be the exception.

“None?” His leader sought to clarify, subtle rising of his shoulders indicating a pleased mood. Li’vor nodded.

“All Blades sent on this mission have returned to the shuttle intact.” Li’vor didn’t hide his smile. “I believe the Witch will be most displeased.”

Kolivan’s glare smoothed into a more neutral position. “I agree. I will see to alerting the medical team on-base for mandatory checks.”

“Of course, leader. Request for further orders?” 

“No detours. Should the Empire discover your position, you are to--”

Hacking coughs sounded from the passenger bay, snatching both Blades’ attentions. When Li’vor turned to look, he felt the spines along his scaled tail stand on end. His mouth fell open in shock.

Gold and white powder dusted the floor, concentrated the closer it was to Keith’s form, still next to the druid’s beheaded body. The puppet’s soiled ichor mixed and clotted with the powder, having spread with the movement of its rolled head. Keith marked the centre of the impromptu mess, shaking and gasping and curled with his head pressing into his knees as if in pain. A wet substance cut tracks into the powder clinging to his body, creating druid-like carvings across his back and arms. Still, he coughed. Wet gloops fell from his mouth. Li’vor felt his breath leave him.

Keith coughed out something  _ red _ .

_ Humans bleed red _ .

The thought trickled into his mind, snapping Li’vor into action. He shed his shock for a steadier mindset, swift and efficient.

It seemed his mission was not yet over.

“Rev! Get the emergency supplies out. Izif, brief Kolivan of the situation.” Li’vor was quick to delegate, moving forth to assess the smaller Blade. 

While the others tended to their tasks, Zera knelt down beside him, placing a hand to Keith’s back in a bid to roll him over. Keith merely spluttered, keeling over under the guidance of her hand and trembling, pressing his temple into the metal floor beneath the ichor and powder. It seemed as though his wheezes weakened, smothered into nothing more than frail gasps. 

At her look for guidance, Li’vor pressed two of his smooth fingertips into Keith’s neck, searching for a pulseline. It jumped to meet him, erratic beneath his fingers. The column of his neck was too hot, borderline feverish, despite the cool liquid secreting from Keith’s pores. Golden powder was expelled from his mouth in small bursts in time with feeble breaths, promptly sucked back into his mouth.

Li’vor frowned.

Before he could issue anymore orders, Keith stopped.

Simply…

_ Stopped _ .

There were no more gasps or wheezes nor any form of breath from the hybrid beneath him. The shaking halted, giving way to what was likely exhaustion. Zera leaned down, as if to look into Keith’s eyes. She came back sharply, uncurling his body from its collapsed tangle. 

“His eyes, Li’vor. His  _ eyes _ .” Zera rasped. She tilted the powdered face, keeping her hand at his cheek to stop it from lolling. Li’vor felt his tail spike once more. Despair cut through his side like any luxite blade, pain worsening as reality set in.

“No…”

He choked on that one word, knowing it was all too late. He should have seen the signs; should have heeded them. The  _ fever _ , the  _ tremors _ , and now…

The areas in Keith’s skull where his two eyes usually rest were taken up by an encroaching weave of red; the kind that related to quintessence in which it exuded raw  _ power _ . White veins, familiar in their haunting presence, was all that remained of the original eyes, having been overrun by an age-long enemy to all Galra. 

An affliction that had picked off those of Galra blood since the  _ rift _ .

“ _ The illness… _ ”


	2. Keith is a Strong, Independent Youngling Capable of Dying Without Help, Thank-You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation from last chapter, to close up some plot holes left between chapter 1, 2 and 3 of SKF.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mfw wordcount matches the year. (2019, for future reference)

_ ‘I will contact the paladins of Voltron. This may, yet, be salvageable.’ _

Those were Kolivan’s last words, all before sending their team coordinates to a long-since abandoned Marmoran outpost on the edge of the Karthulian System, just within Yendailian’s orbit, situated within one of the volatile planet’s cratered moons. 

_ Salvageable... _

Zera held her doubts close.

Yes, it was strange how the  _ illness _ had not spread to any of the other members of their team, and yes, the  _ illness _ did not normally cause flaring quintessential auras around its hosts, if ever. 

No, Zera did not expect their luck to last. 

It was only a matter of  _ time _ .

They’d all been instructed to treat these next few quintants as their final days, regardless of whether they’d contracted yet; surrendering their blades to a single decontamination locker in the event that someone with an immunity or little Galra in their veins was able to come by and collect them. Similar treatment was expected of their suits, all agents now wearing nothing but modest shifts as they awaited further news.

All of them expected to die, here.

Her trepidity did nothing to halt her hands mid-task, nor did they keep her on the precipice of despair. 

She never was one to fear death.

_ Still… _

A quiet moan sounded beneath her, breathy and barely there. She stilled the cloth in her hand, pressing it against near-translucent skin, an array of pinks and yellows bruising what should otherwise be soft cream. Yellow powder clung desperately to her fur.

A beat.

_ Silence. _

Zera sighed.

“You’re not awake, are you?” It was more a statement than actual curiosity, her soft voice curling throughout the room’s darkness. She resumed her ministrations, trying her hand at removing the invasive plant matter as best she could. Even with the moist cloth between them, Zera could feel how Keith’s skin was as close to the blaze of a star’s radiation as one could get without combusting to flames himself. She had to admit, she was impressed. 

She didn’t know humans could reach such feats.

Not without consequence, at least.

Zera’s fur was short but bristled as cool air continued on its filtered way through the room. Several empty water pouches lay by her feet, crumpled and all but forgotten. A discarded tray half-filled with rations was eyed but otherwise ignored; eating had proven difficult with death so near. 

Keith hadn’t been able to stomach a bite.

“I’m surprised you haven’t died yet.”

Zera wasn’t sure why they were still keeping him alive. Within the first varga on-base, a scan had shown several organs deteriorating into near-failure, of not complete. If not for Rev and his invaluable knowledge on field medicine—

She could have scoffed.

_ Almost invaluable _ , she thought miserably.  _ It will soon be lost to this madness _ .

They all knew the dangers of leaving that kind of information in an abandoned outpost, regardless of location. By movement’s end, their lives would amount to little more than marks along with the needless deceased; those who contributed but felled not by blade nor battle.

_ The illness… _

“None of this should have happened. We aren’t even sure how it spread.” Zera felt bitter nausea  _ churn _ . “And that druid… How did you know to fell it?”

There was no point to her speaking to her downed comrade, nor was there need for her continued care over him. She knew it was pointless to try feeding or watering him and that all it would result in was wasted supplies. There was no reason to prolong his pain, his suffering, as he wasted away to the  _ fever _ ; as his mind crumbled to dust before inevitably turning against them. It was unnecessary, yet she didn’t stop.

She doubted any of them could.

Not when patent rumbles answered each of their gestures; carded hair, caress against protruding collar, the closeness of another to ease his burden.

_ A youngling. _

Kolivan had inducted a  _ youngling _ .

Was Keith even a youngling at the time of his trials? It was very well possible he’d still been a mere kit, facing fully grown Galra - regardless of bloodline - with little more than a knife and what Zera knew to be at least a decade-worth of spite. He’d not backed down - too driven on his path for knowledge - to the point of ignoring his own leader, the black paladin of Voltron.

Keith’s distance to anyone within the Blade, even Kolivan, was more than telling on his stance to authority.

_ Still _ .

That did not change the fact that neither she, nor her comrades, were equipped to comfort an ailing youngling. Claiming ignorance was mere salt to the wound, for  _ any _ Blade. However, in this instance there was no other option. There was no reason to suspect, let alone  _ recognise  _ any of the signs of a child within their ranks; they’d been told Humans matured much faster than most species, after all. 

_ Zera wondered if Kolivan knew. _

Regardless, all they could do was care for Keith until Kolivan sent word for action;  _ comfort _ him until his time was done, however best they could. It was too cruel to have them end a youngling, yet necessary. Li’vor had refused to meet her eye when she’d said as much to his face, yet Zera knew for a fact that Rev was in the near-desolate medical unit, deriving some form of medicine so Keith would be sent off without pain. Izif had come by earlier, asking if she wished to send her final words to what remained of her lineage. She knew they intended to end her next, as she was most likely to contract the  _ illness _ next.

She refused.

Kolivan had yet to send word.

Zera had little doubt that they were set for death. No doubt, in fact. Whether by the  _ illness itself _ , or being mauled by the youngling beneath her, she saw her death and snarled. She would not fear it. Doesn’t. Still…

There was a part of her that hoped for salvation.

_ It was cruel to have them end a youngling. _

Yet still, the powder remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt that this chapter was necessary in terms of peering into the mind of your average, every day Galra. Also, it really does close some serious plot holes nobody noticed in chapter 1, 2 and 3 of SKF. I'd known they were there when I wrote them, but I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to fill them in. I guess this is as good for me as it is for the plotline. :D
> 
> Pretty sure the end note from chapter one is gonna go ham on here. If it does, I'll put a note and the chapter 1 end note will appear right after the colon:
> 
> Chapter 1 end notes  
>  _Later on, this fic WILL have mentions of the Pierre Foster Centre. So, like, I'll put the chapter title "Pierre" for that chapter if y'all just came for that and don't really care about this other stuff. I'm eager to write it, but I currently feel I'm not ready for that emotional roller-coaster. This is gonna have to help me build myself up for it._
> 
> _Okay, so like, weekly updates if I'm working off my phone, daily/less-than-a-week updates if I'm working off a computer. I've planned nothing (goodie) and am just gonna read the SKF chapter I'm basing these updates off and go yolo mode 100%. This means y'all will get a mix of structured and freestyle, which will keep the fic organic and do some serious world/universe-building where SKF was lacking._
> 
> _I'm doing this to psych myself up for that Lotor x Keith fic, guys. This is all for the ship. SKF sequel is gonna be filled with so many memes I already have some of the chapters pre-written. This deleted scenes fic will basically keep me in canon._
> 
> _Yay!_
> 
> _Thank you all for reading and staying with me through this mess of a plot-bunny. I hope y'all have a lovely day! ♥_
> 
> With that out of the way, thank you guys so much for reading and following the story. I hope y'all got a fix of angst from this chapter (I sure did). I hope y'all have a lovely day! ♥


	3. Chapter 2 - Kolivan DOES Care - Deleted Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruh, it's sus
> 
> Bruh
> 
> BRUH

“This looks sus as fuck.” Pidge deadpanned.

“I’d call it ‘ _exciting_ ’,” Matt peered over her shoulder, the back of the pilot seat between them. At his sister’s unimpressed blink, he conceded “-but, yeah, I guess it _does_ look kinda sus…”

Pidge snorted.

“I’m scanning it, anyways. We don’t have any way to escape an ambush this far out from the Coalition.” She activated a pulse, willing her Lion to detect life forms within and around the base in front of them. Nearby, a volatile red planet seemed to explode at several points across its surface. The sound travelled all the way out to its nearby moons; a staccato tune to its own symphony. The pulse returned moments later.

Five lifeforms.

All Galra.

Pidge hummed.

“I take it they’re there?” Matt inquired, face blank as he studied his sister’s drawn face with the barest hints of trepidation colouring his tone. She caught his look from the corner of her eye but didn’t react. She studied the bio-signatures before her, seeing them all in varied states of purple and gold. Only one was dipped in the dark red she’d come to associate with Keith.

It flickered before her, disappearing at times as if it didn’t even exist. It would come back moments later, glittering like a ruby in a jeweller’s store.

Pidge nodded.

“I’ll send a hailing transmission to see if we’re still welcome.” Something about the readings didn’t sit right with her, but she tried to keep it to herself. So far, everything checked out. She doubted the Blade of Marmora would turn on Voltron any time soon, but she wasn’t herself if she wasn’t prepared for anything.

Any guilt she felt for creating the virus for Shiro’s arm was swiftly stored behind her more pragmatic intentions.

She could focus on him later.

“This is Pidge, Green Paladin of Voltron. Requesting permission to enter. Over.”

Nobody answered.

At first, she and Matt just shared a confused, if slightly concerned, look. Then, the ticks stretched on into a full dobosh. Pidge fidgeted in her seat. She huffed out something between a sigh and a scoff. She didn’t know which it was. Leaning back in her chair, she pressed the button to send another transmission.

“Hello? This is Pidge; Green Paladin. Requesting permission to enter. Over”

Nothing.

“They could be dead—” Matt’s suggestion was cut off.

“They’re not dead, Matt.” Pidge snapped. “All their life signatures are here. They gotta be _alive_ for that.”

Matt blew air into one of his cheeks, putting on his _thinking face_. It comforted Pidge to see it.

“They could all be sleeping.” He finally suggested. Pidge scoffed.

“ _All_ of them?”

“There’s only five people, right? They just went through a pretty big mission.” Matt nodded at his own suggestion, seemingly connecting pieces that might not exist.

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I thought I was gonna die.” Pidge pointed out, expression borderline deadpan with its bored eyeroll. “Stress can be a great motivator to stay up.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I still have flashbacks of _Garrison finals_.” Matt shuddered. Pidge felt her lips twitch upwards.

They were in the middle of an intergalactic war with Space Kitty-Hitler and the worst thing Matt stressed about was the finals he’d aced.

Her brother was such a dork.

Instead of voicing her fond opinions on the matter, Pidge pressed the transmission button again.

“Anyone out there? This is Green Paladin Pidge of the Voltron Coalition. Requesting entry. Over.”

Again, nothing—

“ _shhhh, kshhzeet. Kshhhhhh kshh zzor_.”

Pidge shot up in her chair. Matt had similar reactions.

_Static_.

“Can you clean that up?” Matt nodded to the speakers, referring to the feedback. Pidge nodded.

“Yeah. Lemme just—” She fiddled with a few of the transmission dials nearby, carefully turning them until the sound coming through the speakers formed clear words.

“This is Izif. Come in, Green Paladin.” A nasally voice called out, accented by a slight lisp. It was unlike any Galra voice she’d ever heard, yet the tell-tale growl underlined each word. Thinking back on it, she could kinda see how her memory of Keith’s voice was more Galra-like than any of them seemed to notice.

Pidge hit the transmission button near her.

“I’m here. This is Pidge. Can I enter?” The words were jumbled into a near-yelp. After the last few requests, she’d begun to have doubts on whether they’d let them in. Izif’s next words quelled them.

“Of course. Opening the hangar bay doors, now.” Izif didn’t comment on her lack of decorum, but then again, Pidge wouldn’t either if she was stared down by a Voltron Lion.

In any case, a portion of the moon’s surface shifted, multiple pieces falling in and folding together until a tunnel opened before them. Besides the volcanic planet nearby, there was no light to show the way into the tunnel. In fact, when Pidge angled her Lion closer, it seemed as though the tunnel’s darkness absorbed any form of external light.

“This looks sus as fuck.” Matt piped behind her.

Pidge snorted.

“No shit.”

It took less than a dobosh to get through the tunnel and into the base within; all the while, a steady prickling feeling crawled up her back. Pidge could feel every hair stand on end, could feel every breath that came to her. Her nerves were tense as the darkness didn’t abate, instead growing oppressive as they landed in the hanger.

It was like a miasma.

**_BANG!_ **

Pidge jumped. Matt didn’t fare much better. Nearby, an overhanging light flooded the room. It banished the darkness like a hand through cobwebs.

**_BANG!_ **

**_BA-BANG!_ **

More lights shuttered on, revealing another ship not too far away. It was Galra in make; the Blade of Marmora’s technology didn’t really differ from the Empire’s. Pidge knew it was Blade technology only by the sleek hull dedicated to stealth missions.

Zarkon wasn’t exactly one for subtlety.

“Soooo… that was something?” Matt drawled, biting at his lower lip.

Pidge shrugged.

“Guess we should greet the welcoming committee.” She stood from her chair, making her way out of the cockpit and down the ramp. She hooked her arm through the wayward strap of her medical bag on the way out. Matt followed her a couple paces back, to her left. It didn’t help the tense coil in her gut, but she was glad to have the backup. She walked to an opening doorway still in motion, stopping just shy of the precipice as the metal plates folded much like the ones protecting the tunnel.

She hummed.

The process didn’t take long; the door opened in half a dobosh and the technology itself seemed pretty old.

Pidge was surprised it worked at all.

Beyond the doorway, a reptilian bipedal alien stood at what had to be over 9ft, causing both Pidge and Matt to crane their necks to address them. There were obvious Galran features; yellow sclera, elongated pointed ears, and a strange growl that underlined each breath, almost indiscernible if Pidge hadn’t specifically looked for it. Their form was covered in nothing but a cloth slip.

“Welcome, Paladin. Ally.” The alien – probably Izif – rasped out, nodding to Pidge and her brother in what seemed to be a show of respect. Pidge nodded back.

“We’re here to help.” Matt intoned, putting a hand on Pidge’s shoulder. Pidge felt some of her anxiety vanish at the contact.

“Of course.” Izif nodded again, this time in agreement. “We have settled our youngest member in a repurposed recovery room. As of yet, none of us have contracted, yet we cannot be certain.”

“And, by ‘youngest member’, you mean ‘Keith’, right?” Pidge tilted her head.

“Yes.” Izif said. “His room is this way.” With that, they turned and began to walk down the hall. Pidge and Matt hurried to fall in step behind them. Looking directly at Izif’s back, Pidge noticed a hole in the shift, taken up by what looked to be a docked tail.

Pidge blinked.

Still there.

Matt seemed to notice where she was looking. He also blinked. They shared a side-eyed stare, then, as one, they shrugged. They wouldn’t bring it up now, but both Holts knew they’d be researching Galra physiology in more depth after this mess was settled.

Soon enough, only a single turn away from the hangar bay, Izif led Pidge and Matt to a nondescript door. It was in a hallway full of similar doors, each one placed with equal distance between them. When Izif raised their hand to access the nearby control panel, they hesitated.

Izif half-turned. They gave the Holts an indescribable stare. Matt fidgeted under the scrutiny.

“Uh… is something wrong?” He asked, visibly tensing and rolling to the balls of his feet. Pidge grabbed his hand, willing him to calm down.

Izif turned fully this time.

“Be wary, Paladin. Ally.” They nodded. “Your friend has experienced much with our organisation. If this truly is the _illness_ , his mind may be gone.”

Pidge startled.

“ _What?_ ”

Izif seemed to have said all that needed to be said, as they placed their hand atop the control panel and activated the door’s opening mechanism. Pidge stepped forward, grabbing at the side of Izif’s shift to stop him from going anywhere.

Not that Pidge really expected it to.

“What do you mean ‘ _his mind may be gone’_? Kolivan didn’t say that.” She interrogated, tightening her grip when Izif tried to extricate themselves from her grasp. They stopped, then placed their hand atop Pidge’s head in what felt more like a comforting gesture than she was comfortable with.

“I suggest you share farewells.” They said, before gently loosening Pidge’s hand from their shift and walking down the hallway, turning at an intersection, moving out of sight.

Pidge stared after him.

Something about their words seemed final.

“Come on,” Matt said after a moment of silence. He placed a hand on Pidge’s shoulder, guiding her back to the door. “We should go see what he was talking about. It might be nothing.”

_I hope so_ , Pidge thought numbly. She allowed herself to be nudged through the door, her eyes unseeing. She barely noticed the feminine full-blooded Galra at the room’s sleeping bay, tending to the bay’s user. A shock of dark hair peeked around them.

Pidge huffed, her vision sharpening, allowing her to see the room around her. She forced her mind to focus on medical procedures as wheezed breaths and murmured comforts prickled her ears. Pidge clung to Matt’s reassurances.

_I really hope so_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think not having a laptop at my fingertips would affect my writing schedule this bad. I'll never take this baby for granted again! (hugs laptop close)
> 
> I'm so glad I'm writing this before Keith x Lotor fic because I need to get my shit together lmaoooo. Writing style's suffered a little from the lack of action, and I need to get back into the groove of writing everyday. It's good for my health. I was at stress level 5000% before writing, and now I'm at a healthy 30%. This is good for my anxiety. Also, it's helpful that this fic is just a bunch of fillers that wouldn't have made the cut for the faster pace SKF took on.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed. Please don't be shy to tell me what you think, or if I've missed any plot holes, or if I should put something in to help with consistency/continuation. This is a plothole bandaid fic (that's gonna be a new tag lmao).
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I hope y'all have a lovely day! ♥


End file.
